“It’ll never happen,” I growl. I want to pound his face into the wall, but I know I can’t.

“Wait and see,” he says.

“Get your own place to live and stay out of her life, Shit.”

He grits his teeth. “It’s Trip.”

“That’s what I said, Shit.” I place my fingertips over my mouth. “Oh no!” I cry like a girl. “Did I make a mistake? Sometimes us deaf guys, we can’t enunciate properly.” I can enunciate just fine, but I choose not to because I’ve finally pissed him off. “You understand my problem, don’t you, Shit?” I grab the front of his shirt and jerk his face close to mine. “If you ever talk about Emily the way you did a minute ago to anybody, including me, I’ll wrap your little dick around your throat and tie a f**king knot in it. Do you understand?”

His gaze drops from mine. I think I’ve finally made my point.

“I think Emily can make her own choices.” He adjusts his clothes when I let him go.

“She already did.”

I’m talking to his back by this point. His door slams.

I start toward Emily’s room. Maybe I can help her get dressed. But just as I’m about to turn the knob, the front door opens and her parents walk in. They may have knocked. I can’t be sure. It seems like Shit would have come out if he’d heard a bell or something. Or Emily. They’re her parents and they pay for the place, so I guess they can do what they want.

“Logan,” her mom says, walking quickly toward me. She’s a pure delight, and I’m surprised I like her as much as I do. She hugs me and pats my back. “Where’s Emily? Did the clothes I sent fit?” She looks down at what I’m wearing and grimaces. I see that they’re dressed really nicely when Mr. Madison helps Mrs. Madison take her coat off. She’s wearing pearls and diamonds, and her blue dress probably costs more than a car.

“Emily is getting dressed first,” I say, nodding toward the bedroom.

She hurries in that direction and slips into her daughter’s room, closing the door behind her.

I stand there starting at Mr. Madison like an idiot. I made an ass of myself the last time I saw him, walking out the way I did. I really want to have a good relationship with him. I stick out my hand, and he reaches for mine, squeezing it tightly as he looks into my eyes.

“Mr. Madison,” I begin. I don’t know what to say.

“Mr. Reed,” he replies. He lets my hand go and stares at me like he’s waiting for me to apologize. I wouldn’t do that on my f**king deathbed, because I don’t think you should apologize for anything unless you’re sorry.

“Logan,” I say, correcting him.

He just nods.

“Mr. Madison, I wanted to talk with you,” I begin. I don’t know the right words to say what I want to say.

“Yes, I’d hoped you would.”

He sits down in a chair and motions to the couch opposite him. I sit gingerly, not sure of how to proceed. “The last time we spoke…”

“You mean when you walked out and smashed something?” he asks.

I want a cigarette. I can almost feel one between my fingers. “It was just a trash can.” It could have been his face if I wasn’t such a gentleman. And he wasn’t Emily’s father.

“That trash can never did you any harm.” But he smiles as he says it, and the pressure in my chest eases some.

“Mr. Madison, I feel like I need to explain my intentions toward your daughter.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do go on.”

“I love her like crazy, and I’d like to have your permission to marry her.” I blink at him. I need to say more and it’s on the tip of my tongue, but the words won’t come.

“No.”

That’s all he says. Just no.

“Mr. Madison,” I start. “I’d really like to have your blessing.”

“My answer is still no, young man.” He leans forward putting his elbows on his knees. “Before Emily was born, I dreamed of what my family would be like. I dreamed of a houseful of kids. But she was the only one. We didn’t find out until she was in kindergarten that there was something wrong with her.” He shakes his head. “I hope you never find out what it’s like to have child with the problems Emily has. It was a disappointment to us all.”

I sit back. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. I would be honored to have a daughter like Emily.

He goes on, shaking his head. “She’ll never be a business mogul or a scientist or a doctor. She’ll never be able to fulfill any of the dreams we had for her. But she can marry well.” He leans over and squeezes my knee like he’s sharing a secret with me. “And you, son, do not fit the criteria.”

He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, and I close it. I probably look like a fish flopping on dry land.

“You’ll run your little tattoo shop and you’ll have a shitty apartment and you’ll buy your wife a tiny diamond. And you’ll be happy with that. But I’ll never be happy with that for my daughter. She deserves better.”

“Yes,” I agree. “She does deserve better.” She deserves better than the father she ended up with. She deserves to have a father who can see the f**king beauty and intelligence that’s inside her. “She deserves better,” I say again.

“I’ve decided to let her have her fun until it plays out.” He leans back and steeples his hands over his belly. “But when all is said and done, I expect her to marry well. And that won’t involve you.”